Dragon Age
by The Stream
Summary: This POV story is set a year before the Inquisition arrive in Thedas, and a year after the Mage Templar War begins. (Take Note; that I do not own, Dragon Age!)
1. EDWARD 1

_ DRAGON AGE_

_ EDWARD_

* * *

The ship swayed around on top of the wild sea of the Amaranthine Ocean. Giving the ship workers more work, then intended. Since they left Tevinter behind them, a great storm had followed the ship. For next three very long days, and nights, since they left Tevinter. The storm had roared above them. _We are not escaping the damn storm, it's following us. _The ship captain, Edward Everton, told himself. While he stood looming above a broad oak table. Filled with maps, of the eastern side of Ferelden.

The door leading into his room opened, and an older man with white hair, and a bald head. Walked inside. "I bring your ale, captain." Said the old man, while he was walking towards the big table.

Edward nodded his head. "Thank you, Warren." He answered, not looking up from his maps.

"When are we arriving in Denerim?" The old man, Warren suddenly asked. His voice was filled with excitement, like he was made into a small child again.

"Eager are we?" The captain asked, with a grin on his face. Warren had put the ale bottle, in front of Edward, and he was now pouring himself a cup. He drank some, and let it gone down his throat with great pleasure. Tevinter ale was his favorite ale. Other country's ale and mead. Didn't taste the same, but that was to be expected, nothing good ever came out from Ferelden, or any other southern country.

"It's not every day, an old man like me; get to see a grand city like Denerim. For the first time, in his long life." Warren was indeed an old man, he was weak, slow –and not only physically-, and was so tired, so that he spent most of the long days, in his room.

"Have many name days have you had?" Edward asked him.

Warren smiled, "82, captain."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Strange, you're that old, worked on a ship, your entire life, and you yet haven't seen Ferelden, how come?"

"Strange turn of events," the old man answered, with a ragged and slow voice. He gestured towards a chair next to the big table. Edward nodded, and Warren sat down. "You see; I've been in Ferelden many times before this, because I worked with a trading company back in Tevinter. But I've never seen the capital. When the late King Maric, and his general Loghain. Fought against the orlesians in the rebellion. The orlesian regent of Ferelden, abandoned all trading with other lands, except for Orlais."

Edward made a grin. "Scared bastards," he said.

Warren made a deep sigh, and shook his shoulders. "Well, it was to be expected, I mean; everyone was turning towards Maric, and his army for help, when they got denied in Denerim. King Maric promised the trading companies, wealth and future dealings with Ferelden, if they all helped him in the rebellion. The trading company which I worked in was one of those companies."

"So did you meet the king?" The ship captain asked, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He leaned back against the chair.

"No, we only got to see him once, and that was when he told us his little speech in Redcliff. The company chiefs met with Loghain, and spoke only with him. He was always the kind of man who had a hard time trusting people outside of Ferelden. But that is to be expected since he rebelled against the Orlesian Empire."

Edward Everton had heard rumors, and tales. Concerning the great general Loghain, and the Hero of the River Dane, even in the far reaches of Tevinter. The legends described him as a harsh, some say even cruel. A leader, who could go to great lengths to accomplish his own goals. In the years earlier, when the Darkspawns; attacked the once great fort of Ostagar. It was said, that Loghain betrayed his own king, Maric's own son, King Cailan, in the field of battle, and retreated. Leaving King Cailan, and some of the legendary; Grey Wardens, to their deaths, at the hands of the Darkspawns.

"Well, now you will have the chance of seeing the great city of Denerim," Edward told the old man, who replied in a friendly smile. But, Edward may have over exaggerated the last part. Denerim wasn't a great city. Indeed it was the capital city of Ferelden. But Edward had seen better looking cities in his time. He only hoped that Warren wouldn't notice that part.

Edward rose up from his comfortable chair, and walked towards the door, leading out to the main deck. He could hear the ship workers, struggling to keep the sail on their place at the mast, and not scattered and torn by the wild winds. "I would suggest, not going outside, captain. It's pretty dangerous out there," the old man Warren, told him, and Edward halted. He didn't want to admit it, but he was to no use out there. He needed to stay in his cabin, planning the trade ship's arrival in Denerim's vast dock side port.

There would be a lot of coin to spend, once they reached the docks in Denerim. First they had to pay the harbor master, coin for a spot to lay there ship. Once that had been settled, Edward would have to go to the nearest inn, and ask for rooms, for him and his men. Then, coin would drop down to the guard captain, Edward wanted his goods to be safe, and he didn't trust the men who worked on his ship. _Either they are thieves, with no place to go, and risk getting hanged back in Tevinter, or they are greedy bastards, and want find coin, their own way. _Edward thought, as he stood over the big oak table, and rubbed his chin. "I'll go and sleep for the rest of the journey. Wake me when we reach, Denerim. Or if something happens," he told the old man.

Warren nodded his bald head. "As you say, Captain," he replied. Rising up from his chair, and started towards the door. But then turning around, facing the captain. "Oh, and captain; Please visit the market when we reach Denerim. We need more food, our supplies are running low, and I don't think we will be able to travel back to Tevinter, with so little food."

Edward nodded in response, and Warren left the captain's cabin, and left the captain was alone with his thoughts. He walked towards a small bunk bed, in one corner of the cabin. As he sat down on the bed, his feet ached, and his headache felt like a sharp knife.

But, soon they would finally arrive in Denerim, and the captain's worried thoughts would be calm. As he laid there on the small bunk bed, he looked up towards the ceiling, and then he shut his eyes. Desperately trying to find some sleep, even though Edward knew that would be impossible in a storm like this. The boat was rocking one side to the other, jumping up and down on the waterline. Even though that night in the terrible storm wasn't a new experience for Edward, he still didn't like to be on a rocking ship.

He woke the next morning to the sounds of seagulls, the ship workers running around on the deck, yelling commands to each other, and of course to the rapid knocking on the door to his cabin. "Captain, it's me, Warren!" The old man called from outside.

Edward, yawned, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and sat up on the bunk bed. With had been so uncomfortable, and hard. That a great, but familiar, pain came from his lower back. "Come in!" He called to the old man, and the door swung open.

The old man, Warren, walked inside the cabin, closing the door behind him. Edward noticed that he was limping on one leg. "What in the Maker's name happened?" He had to ask.

Warren waved his hand. "No, it was nothing captain. I slipped on the deck last night," he answered.

"Did you see the doctor, what did he say?" The doctor on the trading ship, who was also the cook, John. Was a fatter man, with a round face, and a bald head. He smelled bad, and wild dogs wouldn't eat his food. But he was a great doctor, one of the best that Edward had ever seen. But, he knew John, wanted to be the cook, not because he thought that he had great cooking skill. But because John, wanted to spend his days on the food storage room, instead of the top deck, with the other workers.

Warren shrugged his shoulders. "I did see the doctor, and he told me that I sprained my ankle, and that I should rest for a few days," he answered.

Edward nodded. "So, what are you doing here? Go down and rest, we need you in top shape."

"Yes, I know. But I want to see the capital."

"You could see it from your cabin," Edward replied.

Warren snorted, and then chuckled. "No disrespect captain, but I didn't travel all the way from Tevinter. Too see the Denerim from a distance."

Edward got up from the bed, and walked towards his big oak table in the middle of the cabin. There was a bottle of wine, and a cup waiting there for him. So he poured a cup, and drank the wine. He then sank down into his overly large chair, and watched, Warren. He was frowning while he looked at him. "So what, you want to follow me all day?" He asked the old man.

Warren, sighed, and sat down on a chair a few feet away from Edward. "Well, not exactly," Warren answered. He gestured with his hand towards the wine bottle, and Edward nodded. Warren then began pouring himself a cup of the wine. "You see, I want to visit someone who lives near the big market." The old man Warren continued.

Edward had to narrow his eyes again. "The market that's near the palace?" He asked.

Warren nodded. "Yes, my old friend lives there."

"But you said that you've never visited, Denerim. How can you know where your friend lives?"

"He told me himself long ago, and he's pretty famous in, Denerim. So I don't think it should be too hard to find him."

"Who is he?"

"An old elven mage," Warren answered. Edward almost started to choke on the wine, passing down his throat. He started to cough rapidly.

"A mage…? Maker's breath, why would you visit a mage?" The captain, Edward asked. He knew that this mage had to be an apostate. No mage in the current state of Thedas could live by himself. Without being chased by Templars, and later, when they finally catch him, they would probably kill him.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, captain. But I can't tell you that," Warren answered. Then he looked around in the cabin, and lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. "At least not here," he continued.

Edward had to admit. He was interested, why would an old man like Warren, who has lived on ships, and spent most of his time on the roads all around Thedas, want to meet an old, isolated, elven mage? The question went around in his mind, wanting an answer. But Edward knew he wouldn't get one, at least not yet. He could see that Warren was serious. "So, when can you tell me?" He asked Warren.

But, the old man only shook his shoulders. "If you want captain, I could take you with me. When I go and see him," Warren finally answered.

As Edward sat there, on his high chair, and behind his big oak table. He wondered if he should go or not. He had pressing business to take care of first in, Denerim's dock. Business that he couldn't afford to keep on the sideline. The elven mage could wait.

After Warren left the captain's cabin, Edward, was once again, alone with his thoughts, of the elven mage, and Warren's strange behavior. He could fell the trading ship, slowing down. They were probably closing in to the Denerim docks.

Edward finally decided to leave his cabin, and join his men on the deck. The crew members were running all over the deck, fetching one thing, and then giving it to another, rebuilding the rear mast, which was a bit broken on the bottom. Edward feared that it would just snap in two, and probably kill someone standing near it.

He imagined that the last night's storm had to be terrible. Not only was the mast broken on the bottom. But the sail on the middle mast was torn off its hinges, and was now flapping in the wind. _Maker's breath, _he thought. As he watched the crew members climbing up to fix the flapping sail.

Edward looked around on the main deck, from his cabin door. On the hard wooden deck, some crew members, who were injured, or even sick. Lay on the deck, groaning, and calling for some kind of assistance.

"Come on, you fucking idiots. We need to fix the boat, before we reach the docks." A loud, clear, and demanding voice called out to the other crew members. This belonged to Ronald Merrywater. He was very large and tall man, with a great upper body strength, broad shoulders, and arms thick as small tree trunks.

Edward walked quickly towards him. "Ronald!" He called, and the large man turned around, and smiled towards the captain.

"Maker's breath, it's good to see that you're alive," he said while shaking Edward's hand. "After that storm, I was afraid that something had happened to you too."

_Why would something happen to me? _Edward asked himself. "What do you mean, what happened last night?"

"We lost three men last night, two while they were working, and they fell overboard. Some of the other crewmen said that they didn't even try to keep afloat, they just… gave up," Ronald answered, before sighing deeply to himself, and shaking his head.

"So, what happened to the third one?" Honestly, Edward wasn't even sure he wanted to know. He just had to, so the men could see that he cared, even though he really didn't. Over the years, Edward had seen many good men –or just bad men- die while they were on the ship. The life on a trading ship was never easy, and everybody knew that anyone could lose their lives in storms. Even Edward was never truly sure that he would survive every night on the ship. _The sea is a foul and dangerous place, _he always told himself before a long trip.

"Well, the third one, we're not entirely sure," Ronald responded, while scratching his goatee.

Edward narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the bastard just went mad in the middle of the night. The crewmen said that he started to ramble some crazy stuff, and that he then started to cough up blood. It was weird."

"So he died coughing up blood?"

"No, he died because he started to attack a crewmember that was trying to help him. It was then that an another member, took up a crossbow, and shot an arrow, right in the middle of his forehead," Ronald answered, while pointing on of his big fingers on his own forehead.

"What did you do with the body?"

It was then that, Ronald looked at his captain, with uncertain pair of eyes. Like he wasn't sure how he should answer that question. "We… we threw him overboard," the big man replied.

An hour or two - the Captain couldn't say for sure, because if felt like a whole day- later, the trading ship had docked. The crewmen threw ropes to the dockworkers, and they tied the boat to the poles on the sides of the dock, and then the gangplank was set. Before Edward walked down the gangplank, he looked over his shoulder. "Ronald, after I leave. Wait an hour, and then gather the men, and meet me in the inn, The Pearl!"

"Aye, captain!" Ronald called back, and Edward continued down the gangplank.

On the dock, a man met him, Sanders Farina, an older man, with short gray hair on his head, and a grey long beard. "Captain Edward, it's good to see you again. Was it a calm trip from Tevinter?" The old man asked.

Edward smiled, and shook Sanders bony hand. "It's good to see you to, Sanders. But unfortunately I have to say no. The storm from last night, hit us pretty damn hard."

An expression of sadness, replaced the previous expression of joy, on Sanders face. "Oh… I'm sad to hear that, Captain. Truth is, we have heard from other ships, that they have lost men to, good men."

Edward didn't know what to say anymore. He tried to think of something to say, but the words didn't come out. He just stood there, thinking of the men he had lost last night. "So… where are the carriages?" Edward then asked, trying to change the subject.

"They are further down the dock, unloading a galley that came from, The Free Marches, this morning. Just a few hours before you," Sanders answered. Edward tried looking towards the east, trying to see the galley from The Free Marches. But he couldn't. One reason was that there were a lot of other boats, ships and galleys', blocking his view, and the second reason, was that the dock stretched far to the east and the west.

"Where is the harbor master?" Edward asked the old man.

"He is in the palace, on a meeting with King Alistair, and his small council. He won't be back before tonight," Sanders explained.

"King Alistair is here, in Denerim? I heard that he was overseas."

"Yes, indeed he was, but he came back a few months ago. Nobody knew of his arrival, before he appeared in the public square. He seemed a bit… I don't know, angry."

"He was angry, why?"

Sanders shrugged his shoulders, while he was grinning, and snorted. "Like I would know why the King of Ferelden, would be angry. I could only guess that it has something to do with the, Mage – Templar War."

"I thought the mage rebellion hadn't arrived in Ferelden. Isn't King Alistair in peaceful terms with the mages?" Edward asked the old man, while they were both walking down the dock, towards the main street.

"Well, there are many different theories about that. Some say that the first enchanter of the Ferelden mage circle, allied with the mages in Orlais. Others say that the Templars finally went against King Alistair, when he was overseas, and that they started to kill mages all over Ferelden. But as I said, they are all theories, nobody _really_ knows what happened."

The two men stopped when they reached the main street on the harbor. People were covering the street, harbor workers, ship workers, even merchants. Were all walking up, and down the broad street. "Sanders, do you know if The Pearl can take in my men?" He asked the old man.

Sanders, was watching a few harbor workers, stocking up boxes against a high wall, on one side of a building, on the other side of the street. He turned his head towards, Edward. "I think so, yes."

"Good, I was thinking that my men could sleep there, until we travel back to Tevinter." After that, the two men parted ways, Sanders, had to go and see if the carriages were ready to unload Edward's trading ship, and Edward started to walk down the main street.

Edward stood in front of the building, which belonged to the inn The Pearl. It was a broad building, and tall, with about four floors. The walls and the roof were brown. Black smoke rose to the grey morning sky, through a brick chimney.

He could sense the smell of fresh baked bread, and hear the laughter, and voices, coming from the inn, while he stood outside. Edward walked up the old wooden stairs, which creaked under his weight.

The Pearl's main hall was filled with people. On every bench, which towards the walls of the main hall, sat at least one man, with a whore beside him. The men were talking with their whores, drinking with them, and when they finally had enough, fucked them in their rooms. I was easy to hear the whores' moaning, in the distant rooms, as the sounds echoed through the main hall. But nobody seemed to mind.

Edward walked up to the counter, where a young woman, with blue eyes, long black hair, -and she herself was pretty tall- stood ready to greet him. "Good morning, serrah! How can I be of service?" Judging by the young woman's accent, she was definitely from Orlais.

The young woman was beautiful, probably the _most _beautiful woman in the whole inn. That was why she wasn't able to hire for the night. She was a form of tease, from the owner of the inn. _Look, but don't touch! _Edward thought to himself. "I'm looking for rooms, for me and my men," he replied with a smile.

The young – beautiful- woman nodded her head, still with the same smile on her face. "And how many men are with you?" She asked.

"Ten," the Captain answered. There were more men than ten on the ship. But Edward knew that they weren't all going to be able to sleep in the inn. The decision he made, was based on that fact, and not through his personal feelings to the crewmembers.

The captain knew that it was going to be hard for the crewmen to decide, which men would sleep in the inn, and which had to stay and sleep on the boat. The small cabins below the deck where the crewmembers slept through the night were cold in the night, and mostly overcrowded. Not a way for anyone to sleep.

The young woman, who had turned around, and walked over to a large cupboard, came back to the counter, and gave ten keys to Edward. "The rooms are on the top floor," she said with her familiar smile. "You're in luck. I never thought that there would be so many empty rooms available," she continued.

Edward nodded. "Thank you," he said, while handing over a small purse filled with coins inside. The young woman accepted the money, and Edward, who was turned to go up the stairs, next to the counter. Turned back again, and faced the young woman. "I forgot to ask you; what is your name? In case I need your assistance from you."

"Shyla, my name is Shyla," the young woman, Shyla, replied.

About an hour later, when Edward had reached his room, and changed into more comfortable clothes, he walked down to the main hall, to get something to eat. He was hungry, and he hadn't eaten anything since last night, before he went to bed.

He found an empty table in one of the darker corners of the main hall. The hall was empty now, the men from before had all gone either home, or to their rooms, with or without their whores. A few elven servants, were cleaning the tables with cloths, struggling while doing so, they were all tired and weak, from serving rich noblemen all night.

Shyla, the young and beautiful woman from before, walked towards his table. "What do you want to order?" She asked.

"How do you know I'm hungry?" He asked.

"I can see it on your face; you're either hungry, or just horny, and I don't think you're the kind of man who spends time with whores. Or am I wrong?"

Edward made a grin. "No, you're not wrong." He answered, still grinning. "I'll have a flagon of ale, and eggs with bacon."

Shyla, smiled, nodded, and went towards the kitchen, which was through a door behind the big counter. Edward followed her with his eyes, until she went through the door and disappeared into the kitchen.

The elven servants had left the main hall, and he was now alone. He took out a pipe from his coat pocket, and lit it. Edward tilted his head backwards against the bench, shut his eyes, and exhaled the smoke from the pipe. "Captain," a familiar voice suddenly asked, startling Edward, out from his relaxation.

"Warren! Maker's breath man, you almost scared me to death!" Edward said. "What are you even doing here; shouldn't you be back on the boat, helping Ronald?"

"Well… I told you about my friend, who lives here in Denerim. The elven mage, remember?" Warren answered. While he took a seat by the table, meanwhile he was looking over his shoulders.

"Yeah, I remember. What about him?" The Captain asked.

Warren looked at Edward, and then over his shoulders. He leaned forward. "He asked to see you."

* * *

_**Author Note**_

_**Hello everyone! I first wanted to thank you, for reading this story, and then tell you a little more about it.**_

_** This story is a "remake" of my last attempt to write a long story for Dragon Age. Which didn't turn out as planned, the story was weird, and I didn't think through the POV characters, which we would follow.**_

_** Well, that's why I hope that this "remake" will fix my mistakes, with the previous story, and make this one even better.**_

_** Once again; thank you for reading this story, it means a lot to me!**_

_**The Stream**_


	2. JONATHAN 1

_ DRAGON AGE_

_ JONATHAN_

* * *

He was dreaming dark dreams that night. Some were dreams of his suffering, and the suffering of others. Others were of pain, an eternal pain. Going all through his weak body, it was a pain without cause, but with a purpose. In every dream, he stood at the top of a high cliff, overlooking a vast, and seemingly, endless field. The grass field was black as night, the trees were burning, and there were countless of bodies lying face down on the endless grass field.

Great and long, shadows covered the dark grass field. They were swallowing the long dead corpses on the field. The shadows were dragging them under the dead soil. Jonathan didn't even want to know where they were dragged off to. But he could hear their screams, their desperate calls for help.

Jonathan wanted to help them, in some way, on whatever way he could. But he couldn't move from the high cliff. His feet were a part of the ground now, and so was his life. He couldn't help those people, not anymore; he had failed them all, and now he was forced to watch them all die, over and over again.

As he stood there, listening to the people below, dying, calling for his useless help, there was a downpour. But the rain wasn't water, no; it was blood, dark red, thick and sticky on his fingers. He let the blood rain fall on him, his hands were in front of his body, and he kneeled down to the ground. _This is my punishment, _he told himself. _This is my home, my prison._

The ground shook, making great cracks on the earth, and letting a hellish flame rise from the deep cracks, rising towards the blood sky. Engulfing the vast grass field, and burning up the helpless corpses on the ground. They all called for help, for Jonathan's help. But he couldn't give them that, this was his prison, his tomb.

He felt a great sorrow inside his body, he wanted to scream, he even wanted to jump of the high cliff, to end his suffering, to finally be put down to a long, and endless rest. That seemed like a blessing, _rest… _he thought, looking towards the vast field in front of him which was covered in blue flames.

The rain didn't stop, it just kept raining on top of him, Jonathan, thought that he would drown in it. _Whose blood is this? _He asked himself. All while he was rubbing his hands, filled with blood, against each other. It wasn't warm blood, no; this blood was cold as ice. Jonathan tired breathing on his palms, to warm them, but it was then that he noticed that his breath was gone. In fact, he couldn't even breathe anymore; he could barely see with his own two eyes anymore, there was just darkness, total darkness now.

Then he felt a heat, not a warm heat, but a welcoming, and homely heat. _"What are you afraid of?" _A warm and kind voice asked somewhere in the horizon. Jonathan, wondered who it was, or what it was. But did it really matter? This could have been his chance for salvation, for a long and endless rest, which he deserved.

"Life, sorrow and pain," Jonathan replied. He was afraid of this life, and all the pain and sorrow that came with it. He didn't want to live like this, on this high cliff overlooking death and destruction. Like a hawk was watching its prey from the sky.

_"And what do you want?" _Asked the warm voice, which was getting closer and closer to him for every second that passed by him. But every second felt like a long life time.

_ Rest… _he told himself again. That was what he wanted, he was tired of running, of the sorrow and the pain, and it was all too much for him. He only wanted to rest. "Rest, that is what I want," Jonathan replied. The heat was close now, even closer than before. He could feel it stroking against his pale face. This was the heat he had been waiting for.

_ "What are you willing to lose, for your deepest wish?" _The warm voice asked. Jonathan, felt like the warmth was speaking quietly against his ear, whisperings of salvations for him, and his long and endless suffering on this high cliff.

The strange thing was that Jonathan couldn't even remember the first day, or the first life time, he spent on that cliff. Maybe it had all began so long ago, that Jonathan couldn't even remember? How long had he been on top of this high cliff overlooking death? _"Tell me; what are you willing to lose?" _The warm voice asked again. But now it wasn't friendly anymore, now it was angry, and the welcoming warmth from before, had been replaced by a heat that reminded him of the blue flames, which came through the cracks from beneath the earth.

It was then, that he awoke. He opened his tired eyes, slowly and carefully. A face greeted him, the most beautiful face he had ever seen. A perfectly oval face, with a pair of green eyes, and long red hair like it had been kissed by a fire, and full lips with similar red color as her hair. "Are you an angel?" Jonathan had to ask. Had he finally escaped the high cliff, and been embraced by the Maker?

The angel's cheeks reddened, it had been the first time he had seen an angel blush. She pulled a sling of her long red hair, behind her right ear, and she looked directly at Jonathan. Her green eyes were looking right through him. "What… what are you saying, Jonathan? It's me; Emma," the angel's red lips said.

Emma… he had heard that name before, perhaps in a previous lifetime? "Emma…" he quietly said to himself, looking straight into her eyes. Whoever she was, she was looming over him.

"Yes, it's me," the woman called Emma, replied. "What's wrong with you? I came here to see if you were alright, and then I found you on your bed, twisting and turning around. I… I was scared."

Then Jonathan finally remembered everything. He was a mage from the Circle in Ferelden, before the war started. He was a young man, who had been forced to join a rebellion with his childhood friend, Emma, and they were both forced to kill Templars.

Then, Jonathan, sat abruptly up on the bed, causing Emma, to pull herself back from him. He was breathing heavily, and sweat ran down his forehead. _Maker's breath, was that all a dream? _He asked himself. He couldn't almost believe that it had all been a dream, a long and dark dream.

He rubbed the sleep of his still tired eyes, even though he had just woken up from that terrible nightmare. _No! It couldn't have been a nightmare! It was… it was so real. _His head ached, and also all the bones in his body, and every muscle. He felt like he had been running –nonstop- for days without end. Then he remembered, Emma in the room. She was sitting on a wooden chair beside the bed. She looked puzzled, confused, and worried, all at the same time.

"I'm sorry if I worried you," Jonathan said, he took a deep breath, and began to calm down. His eyes met hers, she was indeed worried, even scared.

"Eh, no… no problem, I was just a little worried, I shouldn't have woken you up. I'm-"

"Don't say that you're sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I would have acted the same way, if you were deep in a nightmare," Jonathan interrupted her, looking straight into her eyes. If he to be honest, he didn't really know if all that had been a normal nightmare. It had all felt so real… the pain felt real, and the heavy "fake" burden from all of those deaths in that great endless grass field, felt all so real.

But what was that warmth, against his face? He had never felt such a heat before. It had warmed his whole body, giving him false hope of salvation from the dream world. Maybe Emma had saved him from the dream world? Or the Fade, as the mages, and the chantry called it. "Thank you," he said to Emma.

The young woman looked at him with great surprise, and raised eyebrows. "What do you mean, why are you thanking me?" She asked.

Jonathan smiled towards her, and then he turned his head towards a large closet, standing against the wall. In there, he would find his robes. "Nothing, forget it. Forget that I said anything." He told her. While he sat down on the end of the bed, while having his back against her.

Jonathan's personal bedroom in the Shadow Tower, which was standing in the west side of the Umiran Keep, was small. It had one bed, a small table for him to write letters, and documents on, a closet for his robes and clothes, and a small chest for his personal belongings. Not the kind of room he had expected a rebel mage to have, but it was good enough.

But the biggest problem in the room; there was only one window, and it was built so high against the ceiling of the room. That Jonathan couldn't see anything outside, he could only hear the birds flying past his window. It was them that waked him up in the mornings. But this morning was a little different. "Well… now that you're awake, you should head down to Enchanter Temerius's room. He is having a meeting with the other mages," Emma suddenly said, she rose from the chair she was sitting on, and was headed towards the door.

"Temerius is having a meeting, why?" Jonathan asked he had almost forgotten Emma's presence inside his room.

Emma chuckled, "you think he'll tell me, The Wild Witch from the south? Don't make me laugh."

"Don't talk about Temerius like that. He's a good man, respected in many mages eyes."

"Well, yeah! He's a good man to male mages, you should hear some of the rumors going around the keep, about his relationship with women," Emma said with a sly smile.

"What… what kind of rumors?" Jonathan asked, while he rose up from his bed, and turned to face Emma.

"Well, you know; that he likes the company with men, under his blankets in the dark nights of the Umiran Keep," she replied. This rumor shocked, Jonathan. Sure, he too, had noticed Temerius long gazes on the male servants in the keep. But that he invited them to his room during the long nights in the keep… Surely it was just a rumor?

"Maker's breath…" Jonathan those were the only words he could say, because no other words came out.

Emma, started to chuckle again, and smile with her beautiful smile, that showed her white straight teeth. "I think you mean; _Maker's cock,_" they both started to laugh after that. "Well, I'll see you later. I need to speak with, Evana, before she goes into the forest to hunt with the other elves."

The elven mages, and the dalish elves, who had joined the mage rebellion –or at least the rebellion group Jonathan was in- were the ones that went into the Bercilian Forest, to hunt for food, and herbs the healing mages in the keep could use for their wounded. "Where will I find you, after I'm done in the meeting?"

Emma, who was half way out the door, halted and turned to face Jonathan, one more time. "Evana will probably wait for me by the stables, and if you do not find me there… well then I guess you will find me in the main hall. With the other mages," she replied a final time, before she turned her heals, and walked out the room.

Once again, Jonathan was all alone, like in his dream, with nothing, but his thoughts about it. What had it meant, was he in the Fade? It didn't feel like the Fade. But, how could he tell what the Fade was like, he hadn't even completed his Harrowing, before the whole Mage – Templar War began.

Sometimes he wondered what the Fade was like, he had asked Emma about it a few times, but she too, had never been in the Fade. None of the young mages in the keep had been. Some asked the Enchanter Temerius, about the Fade, and even though he was the oldest and most powerful mage in the Umiran Keep. He couldn't give anyone a straight answer. _"If the Maker wills it, you will experience the Fade for yourself. More than that, I can't say," _was always the answer.

He found his long red and black robe in the big closet against the wall. It was made in Tevinter that much was clear by looking at it, and it gave Jonathan, a form of mana, and even strength while he wore it. The robe fitted him perfectly, with his height, and his body size. Everyone told him that it looked good on him, even Emma, in her own manner.

The corridor outside his room was empty. Which was strange, because by that time on the day, mages, male and female, elf and humans. Were all running around in the halls of the Umiran Keep. Well, the young mages were running, or walking relatively fast. While the more aged mages were taking their time, they took every step without hurry.

Jonathan, walked down a spiral staircase, he stopped by a window on the wall. Grey clouds covered the sky, and there was a cold wind, blowing through the keep. It gave Jonathan the creeps, _something is disturbing the peace out there, _he thought for himself, and then he kept going down the stair case.

He arrived in the feast hall, a great room, filled with long tables. Mages were sitting next to the tables, waiting for their breakfast. Which would be late, it was always late. The cook was a mage from Kirkwall, Shawn. He had escaped the circle in Kirkwall before the rebellion even started. _Before the champion of Kirkwall, Hawke, sided with the mages, and killed the Knight-Commander, _Jonathan thought.

Shawn was a good mage, he had talent. But he was an even better cook. In fact, he was famous for being the first mage who could actually cook good food, that wasn't poisonous, or just bad for your health. Shawn would have his hands full for the whole morning. There were just so many mages that needed to be feed, and little enough time for him to cook the food.

"Good morning Jonathan!" The voice belonged to an elven mage, who was sitting next to a table in one of the corners of the feast hall. The elven mage sat next to a human mage. They were both drinking something from flagons, but what they were drinking, Jonathan couldn't exactly say.

"Good morning, Illonar. Did you sleep well?" Jonathan asked, while he walked over towards the two mages table.

Illonar grinned. "Like a little baby," he answered. "But how rude of me… Jonathan, this here is, Jeremy." Illonar introduced the two mages for each other.

"Jeremy, but my friends call me, Jerry." The human mage said, while shaking Jonathan's hand.

"Good to meet you, the name is Jonathan, as you probably already have heard," Jonathan replied while looking at Illonar with a half grin on his face. Jonathan sat down by the table, in front of the two mages. "So… you still haven't gotten your food?"

Illonar flickered with his eyebrows. "Yeah… I wonder what's taking them so long."

"Well, Shawn is in the kitchen all by himself, isn't he? That's got to be stressful for him," Jeremy replied, while he took a sip from the drink inside his flagon.

Jonathan finally realized what the two mages were drinking. He could smell the ale when he got a little closer to the table. "Well, I should head on. I have a meeting this morning," Jonathan suddenly said, before he rose up from his chair.

"What kind of meeting? I didn't know there were any meetings, did you?" Jeremy asked his elven mage friend, and Illonar only shrugged his shoulders.

"Relax; it's nothing you need to worry about. Temerius asked to see me in his room," Jonathan answered, holding up a hand to calm the human mage.

"Oh…" Illonar said, looking at Jeremy, with half a smirk.

"It doesn't concern the rumor!" Jonathan said. "There will be other mages there, and you two should stop spreading lies about Enchanter Temerius! He's a good mage, and a good man. We shouldn't start rumors about him, he doesn't deserve them." He continued, before taking off towards a door in other end of the long feast hall.

The long corridor leading towards Temerius room was long, and dark. Shadows coming from the wall, crept along the marble floor, and Jonathan's footsteps echoed as he walked down the corridor.

Jonathan stopped in front of the last door in the corridor, to his right. He took a deep breath… What kind of a meeting was he to expect in there? Would Temerius only bring bad news, about the current campaign against Templars in the south of Ferelden?

He knocked three rapid knocks against the heavy wooden door leading into the room. "Come in!" A deep, and dark voice, called from within the room. Temerius' room was big, bigger than the other rooms in the keep. Jonathan could say that with absolute certainty. It was high to the celling; it had more than one window inside, and a person could actually see something on the outside from it. Bookshelves stood against the walls, and they were all filled with old books. Some were so old, that there was no indication of their date anywhere on it. Either the book was so old, that the text started to disappear, or it was a book lost in the times.

"Enchanter Temerius, ser, you asked for me," Jonathan said, when he walked into the room. He bowed his head a little, as a sign of respect, for the great mages in the room.

"Yes, it's good to see you my friend. We have been waiting for your arrival," Temerius said. He gestured towards a chair standing next to the table which Temerius, and two other mages were sitting around. "Come, and sit my friend. We have much to discuss, and you shouldn't be standing on your feet while we do so."

Jonathan nodded his head, and walked towards the chair. "So, what are we going to talk about?" He asked Temerius.

"Templars have taken a small village to the north of this keep," it wasn't Temerius who answered. Instead it was an old female mage. "My sources say that they use the village as a sort of base, for them hunting apostates in this forest," the old female mage said.

"What, how could they possibly know that there are mages in this forest? I thought we were being careful when we traveled outside of the keep," Jonathan said.

"And we have," Temerius answered with a sharp and direct tone in his deep voice. "The dalish have made sure of that. But I think they are using a different method for tracking us."

"But I thought you destroyed all of the phylacteries in the circle tower, when we escaped."

"It would be impossible for him to destroy all of the phylacteries," the old female mage said suddenly, with a grin on her face, "because many of them are still in Denerim."

"Couldn't someone go there, and I don't know… Destroy them?!" Jonathan asked. His heart was racing, he never expected the Templars to find them so fast, especially here in the Bercilian Forest. It was said that only the dalish could make sense of this forest, and only they could find their way out from it, if they were lost. But Jonathan had never heard of a dalish elf that had gotten lost in a forest.

"It's not that simple, boy." The third mage in the room suddenly said. Jonathan had all but forgotten about the third mage, before he spoke. Like the female mage, he to, was old. Grey hair covered his head, which went down to his shoulders, and he had a long grey beard. "The phylacteries in Denerim are in the Templar compound. It would be suicide for a mage to walk in there, and I don't even want to think what would happen if a mage got caught sneaking inside the compound." The old male mage continued.

"So what do we do, fight them in the village?" Jonathan asked. He didn't like the idea of putting other mages lives in risk, by attacking Templars, in a defended village. The mages in Umiran Keep weren't even ready to face the Templars in open battle. There was just too many, young and inexperienced mages in the keep, and they would surely all die facing a Templar and his sword.

"No, if we fight them in the village, they would only send more, and then the Templars would know for sure that there were mages in this forest. Besides, I think the people living in the village would be pretty mad at us, if we burned their village to the ground." This time, it was Temerius who answered Jonathan's question.

"But the boy is right, Temerius! We need to do something, the Templars will eventually find us through the phylactery they have, or by seeing the Shadow Tower, rising through the tree tops," the male mage said. "We all know it's only a matter of time until they find their courage to venture, into the forest."

"So what?" The female mage asked. "The dalish would know how to deal with them; they've been in this forest as long a mankind can remember."

"I don't know about you, Hilda, but I'm not about to trust my life in the hands of the dalish," the male mage answered.

Hilda's face grew red with rage, and she bit her bottom lip. "I'm also an elf; does that mean you don't trust me to Quentin?" Hilda asked her fellow mage sitting next to her.

Perhaps she had expected Quentin to react different, embraced maybe. If she did, she wasn't going to be happy. Quentin didn't react the way she had wanted. He only shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm talking about the dalish here, not the whole elven race," he answered, with a bit of nonchalance in his voice. Quentin then turned his gaze towards Temerius again. "I say we move to the West, through Ostagar."

"We can't," Temerius replied, looking down on a map which was in front of him on the table. "The darkspawn are still in Ostagar, since the fifth Blight. The Wardens never came back there."

"But do we really have a choice?" Jonathan asked. "We need to fight the Templars in the village, they still have a phylactery belonging to one of the mages in this keep, and because we don't know which one it is, the Templars will continue to hunt us."

A silence grew around the table; the three mages in front of Jonathan all looked at each other. It seemed as they had forgotten about that little problem. "Maker's breath," Quentin said, while desperately shaking his head. "The boy is right; we don't have any choice in the matter. The Templars will continue to hunt us, while they have someone's phylactery."

"I understand that, Quentin. I really do, but we still can't risk an attack against the Templars, while they are inside the village. They surely outnumber us," Temerius answered.

"You know what we could do…?" Hilda suddenly said, with a smirk on her thin lips. "We could have someone sneak into the village, and find the phylactery," she continued.

"Yeah, right… like the Templars would have a phylactery standing around, for anyone to see it," Quentin said, crossing his arm, and leaning back against his chair. "Sneaking into the Templar compound in the village, is just as hard as attacking it."

"How do we even know that they have one of our phylacteries?" Jonathan asked. "Maybe the Templars just heard a rumor, about mages living in the forest? It doesn't mean that they have a phylactery to track us."

"So what do you suggest, Jonathan?" Temerius asked him. Jonathan thought for a moment, not sure what the right decision was anymore. Should they attack the Templars in the village, risking all their lives, and probably lose the battle, and die, or should they flee, and travel to the west?

"I say we travel," Jonathan answered. "We should travel to the west, and then to Orlais. The mage rebellion is strongest there, and we will eventually have to leave this keep anyway. We are running out on food, and even water. The dalish elves are doing such a great job hunting, when it's this close to winter."

Hilda nodded her head in agreement. Jonathan had worried that she would take offence in the words he spoke about the dalish, and their failing attempts to hunt for food. But it seemed like she agreed. "But what about, Ostagar?" Quentin asked. "And the wilds? What if we encounter darkspawn?"

"I know of a passage that will take us around Ostagar. So we don't have to actually walk into it," Temerius replied, while pointing his right index finger on the map, and following a small path that went around the old fortress of Ostagar. "But it will probably take us an extra week for us to pass Ostagar, using this passage."

"I think it's worth it," Hilda said. "If using the passage means that nobody would be in risk, and that we don't have to fight the darkspawn. Then I say we use that passage."

"What about you, Quentin, do you agree?" Temerius asked. He took way his eyes from the maps, and turned them at Quentin.

Quentin meet Temerius' gaze, and then he nodded his head. "Aye, I agree."

After the meeting was finished, and the three mages, Hilda, Quentin, and Jonathan, left Temerius working in his room. Jonathan felt like he needed some fresh air. He remembered that Emma, would be outside, talking with the dalish elves about upcoming hunts in the forest.

The main courtyard was but a shell of its former self. Once it had been beautiful, no doubt about it, it had a wonderful garden, and a few statues standing on the ground. But now, the garden was burnt, to let mages plant herbs, and all the statues were destroyed. But not by mages, no, the statues had already been destroyed when they found the keep.

The big stable, which mostly destroyed, still housed the mages horses. There weren't many, but every horse counted if they needed to travel, or flee from incoming danger. The latter, never happened, _thank the Maker. _Jonathan thought as he stopped in front of the large stable door.

He could hear a female voice inside, no, two female voices. They were arguing with each other. "Fine! Do whatever you want; we don't need you dalish anyway!" Called one of the female voices, which without any doubt, belonged to Emma. The large door into the stable, which had been closed, now opened; Jonathan stepped aside to let an angry Evana, go outside.

"Problems?" Jonathan asked with a grin, while he walked inside the stable.

Emma turned around and faced him, the sight of him, made her smile. But she stilled sighed. "Listen to this; Evana, a dalish elf, and supposedly great hunter. Doesn't want to go into the forest, and hunt."

Jonathan started to chuckle. "Ironic," he said.

"I know right?!" Emma said. "Apparently, she can't risk having her hunter go into the forest, before all of their sick hallas heal."

"The dalish hunters' hallas are sick?" Jonathan asked frowning.

"I don't know, the food given to them from the kitchen have made them sick, and they can't ride out into the forest, before they heal," Emma answered. "So I asked her why they couldn't use the horses we have, and she got angry at me."

Jonathan started to laugh. "Come on Emma, even I know that the dalish people don't ride horses."

Emma apparently started to blush. "Well, how should I know that? I've lived in a circle most of my life, and I don't read many books. Not books about dalish culture anyway. But that still isn't an excuse for yelling at someone."

It was true, both Jonathan and Emma, had lived in the Ferelden circle of magi, for almost their whole lives, and were never permitted to leave the circle tower, without being branded as apostates, and then be killed by Templars. There were some enchanters who were allowed to leave the tower, on circle business. But that was not without a Templar escort. Jonathan and Emma were apprentices in the tower before the rebellion started. The lowest rank in the tower, and not permitted to leave anywhere, sometimes not even their own rooms.

As they both walked back to the main stone building of the Umiran Keep, Jonathan thought about the upcoming travel to the west. Would the Templars find them, or would the darkspawn do it first? He hoped that the path Temerius had found for them was good, and safe, otherwise… No, he didn't even want to think about the consequences. "So, how was the meeting with Temerius?" Emma suddenly asked.

Jonathan who was deep in his own thoughts, gave as start, and looked at the young woman walking next to him. "Oh, you know; three old mages who can't see eye to eye on anything," he answered. They passed a cart filled with supplies for the keep. One of the wheels on the cart was broken, and the mage who was driving it looked down on the wheel, with great confusion.

Emma started to chuckle. "Yeah, I almost can't believe that those are those three mages are protectors of the mages in this keep."

"Why do you say that, like you are not one of us?" Jonathan asked.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, I just-" Emma started to say, but Jonathan interrupted her.

"Don't worry, I know what you meant," he said with half a smile on his face. They continued down the small dirt road, leading up to the main gate of the inner keep's high walls. Mages were standing on the battlements, every last one of them, looking out into the vast forest. They looked like they were half expecting something to dive out from the tress, and attack the first wall, surrounding the whole Umiran Keep.

Five dalish guards stood in front of the gate leading into the main building. Two of them held bows, with a drawn arrow, ready to loose from the elves fingers, as soon as somebody approached the gate. The other three stood by the gate, with one hand around their swords hilt. They looked like amateur guards. Half calm, and half scared.

Jonathan remembered the Templar guards in the circle of Ferelden. Now those were some fearsome looking guards. They were standing in the many halls in the circle tower, all in their heavy plate armor, and large sword hanging behind their backs, or around their belts. This elven guards looked like frightened children in comparison.

When they passed the elven guards outside the gate, they arrived in the great hall of the keep. Which was empty now, but it was usually always empty. Unless Temerius or another mage leader needed to make important announcements, they then gathered all the mages in the great hall, to share the news with them.

Jonathan, turned towards his right, and walked towards a long dark corridor. "Where are you going?" Emma asked. "Don't you want to eat something?"

Jonathan halted, and turned, shrugging his shoulders. "The cook has some problems in the kitchen; it's hard to get anything this morning." He answered.

Emma just nodded her head, not sure what to do next. Jonathan waited for her to make a decision; she could either follow him, or go to the feast hall, and wait for the food, which would never be finished in time. "Well, I'll go and try to get some food. If I get lucky, I'll go up to your room, and share some of it with you," and then Emma continued towards the feast hall, and Jonathan down the dark corridor leading up to the Shadow Tower.

This corridor was even darker than the one before. There were no windows on the walls, and only a few torches hung on chandeliers above him. But it wasn't enough to light the whole corridor. Jonathan took each step with great care; he was almost sneaking through the dark corridor.

Then he could hear voices, around the next corner. "You think this will work?" One of the voices said. It was a young man's voice, clear and sharp.

"Of course it will work," the other voice said, this one was dark and deep. Jonathan couldn't decide if it belonged to an older man, or a younger one.

Jonathan stopped and leaned against the wall to his left which was covered in shadow. He hoped his robe was dark enough to keep him invisible. But the men were already around the corner, they couldn't see Jonathan, but Jonathan couldn't see them. "Do I have your word; that you will kill Temerius?" The clear young voice asked.

There was a short pause… "You have my word…" The dark voice replied, and after that they said nothing. Jonathan could only hear their footsteps walking away, and Jonathan was left in the shadows, alone.

* * *

_**The Stream**_


End file.
